Radical Acceptance

I had a ton of breakthrough symptoms this last week.

I was severely triggered by a neighbor.

I don’t want to go into detail.

So to sum it up, she accused me of something I didn’t do.

And believe you me, this did NOT help reduce my already dreadful neighbors-are-out-to-get-me hallucinations.

Quite the week proceeded to unfold.

And the voices.

They exponentially exploded.

Almost a full week of constant voices talking over one another.

Imitating the people who live around me.

Along with many others.

Almost every moment of every day.

Whispering at me.

Especially when outside.

They’re talking about how they can see me.

I couldn’t open my windows most of last week.

If I did everything just got louder.

Just more of the fucking same.

And I sat here and cried.

Because there’s nothing I can do to stop them.

I’m thankful that now I know this illness is not my fault.

It’s not because I’m a bad person.

Or anything like that.

It just is.

And I have to live with that.

A lot of things in life are like that.

They just are.

And that’s okay with me today.

I’m okay with not being able to control my illness.

Because I have to be.

It just is.

And it’s not going to stop until it wants to.

If that ever comes to be.

Antipsychotics can only do so much.

Like every other medication, they’re not a cure all.

It’s not like a pill will solve all the problems.

It will most likely solve some of the problems.

But they’re not able to quiet everything I hear all the time.

It’s coming from too many directions.

It’s been untreated for so long.

It’s excruciatingly thick.

And this is the best medication I have ever been on.

I feel more often than not I’m in the driver’s seat.

My behaviors aren’t holding me hostage.

I don’t get too angry now because I just don’t have the energy or want/need to be full of rage like in the past.

Besides, I’m too worried about my symptoms coming back.

They do tend to get worse about two and a half or three weeks in.

It doesn’t last the whole four weeks for me.

I had read – on some message board somewhere, that some folks need their Invega injection every twenty one days.

As opposed to every twenty eight.

So I was at my peer support appointment today. 

I asked the pharmacy attached to my mental health clinic if they could do my injection today.

Today is day twenty one.

And they were able to do it.

I almost canceled the appointment earlier.

(which I told the support specialist that I had almost done)

I’m glad I just went.

I’m glad I gathered the energy to go.

Sometimes doing what you don’t want to do is the best thing you can do.

Sometimes it’s not.

But it motivated me today.

I even got some gas, smokes, and a car wash on the way.

It’s been about eight hours since the injection and I’m feeling much, much better.

Much less anxiety.

Much less radio noise.

The whispers have sort of dissipated throughout the afternoon.

Instead of layers, the voices are in chunks.

Longer moments of silence between the chunks.

It’s a welcomed feeling from the past seven days.

It sucks that my medication has a dulled effect the last ten to fourteen days of the cycle.

However I’m incredibly happy that I was able to get it today.

It helps my life inside my head match the life outside of it.

I’m hoping now that I know I can get them every twenty one days, I’ll be less anxious the week before my injections.

I hope it has a positive ripple effect.

I could use one.

It’s interesting though.

Because of course, I started googling breakthrough symptoms.

I found this amazing article.

And that’s even while folks are on antipsychotics.

Just like me.

It made me feel validated.

Because the author mentions radical acceptance.

And it’s one of my favorite DBT teachings.

It just is.

And there’s nothing I can do about it.

It may seem frustrating, because it is.

But why tear yourself apart for something that cannot be changed?

Acceptance is not tied to emotion.

And it does not equal validation.

It just is.

I was told from the beginning that I could very well have breakthrough symptoms like the ones I have.

It’s tough to accept.

And like anything, some days are better than others.

I wish there was medication, or exercise, or something to make it all stop forever.

But that’s not possible.

It just is.

– Keren